Chapter 11. EMIL'S THANKSGIVING

The Brenda was scudding along with all sail set to catch the rising
wind, and everyone on board was rejoicing, for the long voyage was
drawing towards an end.

'Four weeks more, Mrs Hardy, and we'll give you a cup of tea such as
you never had before,' said second mate Hoffmann, as he paused beside
two ladies sitting in a sheltered corner of the deck.

'I shall be glad to get it, and still gladder to put my feet on solid
ground,' answered the elder lady, smiling; for our friend Emil was a
favourite, as well he might be, since he devoted himself to the
captain's wife and daughter, who were the only passengers on board.

'So shall I, even if I have to wear a pair of shoes like Chinese
junks. I've tramped up and down the deck so much, I shall be
barefooted if we don't arrive soon,' laughed Mary, the daughter,
showing two shabby little boots as she glanced up at the companion of
these tramps, remembering gratefully how pleasant he had made them.

'Don't think there are any small enough in China,' answered Emil,
with a sailor's ready gallantry, privately resolving to hunt up the
handsomest shoes he could find the moment he landed.

'I don't know what you would have done for exercise, dear, if Mr
Hoffmann had not made you walk every day. This lazy life is bad for
young people, though it suits an old body like me well enough in calm
weather. Is this likely to be a gale, think ye?' added Mrs Hardy,
with an anxious glance at the west, where the sun was setting redly.

'Only a capful of wind, ma'am, just enough to send us along lively,'
answered Emil, with a comprehensive glance aloft and alow.

'Please sing, Mr Hoffmann, it's so pleasant to have music at this
time. We shall miss it very much when we get ashore,' said Mary, in a
persuasive tone which would have won melody from a shark, if such a
thing were possible.